


Please Believe Me When I Say The Last Thing You Need Is Fixing

by redbrunja



Category: Batgirl (Comics), Batman (Comics)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-24
Updated: 2013-09-24
Packaged: 2017-12-27 12:28:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/978876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redbrunja/pseuds/redbrunja
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Barbara Gordan received a break-up phone call for a non-existent relationship at what was arguably the most hilariously inappropriate time possible.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Please Believe Me When I Say The Last Thing You Need Is Fixing

**Author's Note:**

  * For [defcontwo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/defcontwo/gifts).



Barbara Gordan received a break-up phone call for a non-existent relationship at what was arguably the most hilariously inappropriate time possible.  
  
Dick had his arms draped across the back of the love seat, his head thrown back, the muscles in his throat working as she stroked his erection. Her knees were tucked against his thigh, her left arm bracing herself on the back of the couch. She ran her thumb just under the head of his cock, drew this shuddery groan out of him.  
  
Her phone rang.  
  
Dick's next moan was just straight-out pained.  
  
She saw  _Nicholas Gage_  on the screen, thought, _Steph, something's happened to Stephanie,_  and snatched it off the end table.  
  
"Yes?" she snapped.  
  
"Barbara?" Nick asked and paused. "Is everything all right?"  
  
Barbara tucked the phone between her ear and shoulder, realized that she wasn't going to be able to just ask if Batgirl was alright. No, she was going to have to suffer through social niceties. She shoved her glasses further up her nose. Which brought Dick into sharper focus. His shirt was back on her desk, so he was sprawled across her love-seat, bare-chested. Broad shoulders, defined chest, all this taut, tan skin, his pants undone, his cock hard and curving up towards his belly.  
  
"Babs," he started to say, and she put her hand across his mouth, trying to keep track of Gage's conversation. The three brain cells that she managed to task to paying attention to Gage seemed to think that he was breaking up with her.  
  
Dick sucked two of her fingers into his mouth, teased them with his tongue.  
  
"Hmm-hmm," she said to Gage, instead of remarking about how two awkward dates did not make a relationship.  
  
"I really appreciate this call," Barbara said. She slid her fingers out of Dick's mouth, dropped them to his chest. She teased one of his nipples with her spit-slick fingers and he gripped the top of the couch with his hands, biting hard at his bottom lip. He didn't make a sound.  
  
 _"Very good,"_  Barbara said, voice throaty and low. She dropped her hand to Dick's cock again, rewarded him with one long, strong stroke.  
  
"What?" said Gage.  
  
“Thanks for the phone call,” she said. "Really." She searched for something to else to say but Dick had wrapped his strong fingers around hers, guiding her strokes as he lifted his hips.  
  
"Bye," she decided on, and clicked off the phone. She wondered what the hell Stephanie had said to him to make him think this was necessary. It sounded like he was clearing the decks. She wondered if she should give Steph a heads up? Dick wrapped his free hand around the back of her neck, pulled her in for a kiss that ended with her panting, their joined hands still working him.  
  
Nah.  


 

~~~

  
In hindsight, Stephanie should have just worn a sling. Another person shoved past her chair in a rush to get out of the classroom, and Stephanie set her teeth against the throb of pain that crawled up her arm. She'd wrenched it badly last night, and even though everything had ended well - hostages rescued, day saved, some significant eye contact between her and Detective McHandsome aka Gage– her arm still hurt like a bitch.  
  
She waited until everyone had cleared out of her row before packing her books away, carefully carrying her backpack in her left hand, her right arm tucked across her body. This morning, she'd thought that being low-key and passing on the sling was the right call; now, not so much.  
  
She walked out of the classroom and Nick was waiting for her, leaning against the wall, looking hot and rumpled.  
  
"Morning, Stephanie," he said, "Is your arm doing okay?"  
  
"Oh, yeah," she said, followed by, "wait, what?" and then, "what arm? Why wouldn't it be doing okay?"  
  
Crap, she was  _the worst_  at keeping her cover.  
  
Nick scrubbed the back of his hand across his mouth, clearly hiding a smile.  
  
Steph stepped to one side so that the instructor could leave the class room and after she was gone, Nick opened the class room door again, motioned for Steph to follow him.  
  
"Do you mind if we step inside?" he asked.  
  
"S-sure," Steph said.  
  
Nick closed the door behind them. Steph set her bag down, wrapped her other arm around herself, mind racing. Her internal monologue was this useless jumble of 'he knows, he has to know, maybe he doesn't, pay it cool Stephanie, maybe he doesn't, what if he does,  _what if he does?_ '  
  
"I had a case about three weeks ago," Nick said, leaning against the door and putting his hands in his pockets. "It ended up being ruled a suicide, but in the process I had a chance to go through Gotham U's database of student IDs, and I kept my eyes out for any blondes. And then, there you were." He gestured to her. "I won't tell anyone," he said seriously and Steph sucked in a breath. She hadn't realized she hadn't been breathing. She took a couple of forced deep breaths.  
  
"Why?" she asked.  
  
Nick looked adorably confused. He glanced from side to side, like she'd just asked a trick question. "Because it's your secret identity?"  
  
"Oh!" she said, "I mean, thank you for not telling anyone, and seriously,  _you cannot tell anyone,_  but what I meant was, why did you - it's just, going through the student database is a lot of work, and you're a busy guy, and," she gestured, winced, and Nick reached for her.  
  
"Easy," he said, and cupped her elbows in his palms. "Are you sure that you shouldn't have, like, a sling or something?"  
  
Steph rolled her eyes. "I was being discreet, okay, and I couldn't think up a good cover story."  
  
Nick's eyes crinkled.  
  
"Do you want to have dinner with me?" he asked.  
  
Steph felt like someone had smacked the back of her head with a board. "Like a–" she started.  
  
" _As_  a date," Nick confirmed.  
  
"Yes," Steph said firmly. She tried to keep her grin in check but she just couldn't. She was sure that he'd think she was an idiot who'd never gone on a date before but maybe not, he was smiling back at her, and his hands were still cupping her elbows, so it was really easy to just go up on her toes and give him a quick kiss on the mouth.  
  
Or at least,  _she_  meant to give him a quick kiss on the mouth. Nick wasted no time in opening his mouth under hers, deepening the kiss until Steph was making little pleading noises and nipping at his bottom lip.  
  
"How's tonight?" Nick finally asked, voice rough.  
  
"Yeah, that'll be... yeah," Steph managed, before she thought about it and realized that Wednesday night was actually a pretty good time for a homicide detective and a vigilante-slash-college student to try and have a date that didn't involve crime.  


 

~~~

  
Steph's call went to voicemail and she immediately redialed.  
  
"Fuck, this is probably important," Barbara groaned. She was sprawled in her bed, a delicious nest of white pillows, white comforter, patchy Gotham daylight from the skylight above her, and Dick Grayson, his mouth on her tits, his hand between her legs.  
  
"Oh, probably," he agreed and nipped at the sensitive skin at the top of her breast.  
  
"Is this an emergency?" she snapped into her phone.  
  
 _"Yes,"_  Stephanie answered, sounding anguished.  
  
Barbara threw herself at the laptop resting on the floor next to her bed. She wouldn't have face-planted onto the floor if Dick hadn't grabbed her hips, tugged her back onto the bed. She snapped the laptop open, switched the cell phone to speaker, and logged on to her network.  
  
"Talk to me," she ordered.  
  
 _"Nick Gage_  just asked me out." Steph sounded like she was hyperventilating.  
  
Barbara put her hand over her eyes. "I swear to god, I need to figure out how to slap people over the phone," she muttered.  
  
Dick just rolled onto his back and chuckled.  
  
"He asked  _me_  out, O," Steph continued, "he asked  _actual me_  out."  
  
"Okay, I don't–" Barbara started.  
  
"Stephanie Brown! Detective McHandsome just asked STEPHANIE BROWN out for dinner!" Steph shouted.  
  
Barbara looked a her nails, fantasized about smacking Steph with an escrima stick. She really couldn't force herself to give Steph the 'your civilian identify is super-important' speech at the moment.  
  
"Well, he  _is_  a detective," she said dryly. Dick set her computer carefully back on the floor and then gently pushed her so she was lying on her back.  
  
"I fail to see what the emergency is," she continued.  
  
"Um, because he is used to dealing with quippy, bantery, heroic Batgirl and instead he is going to get awkward, babbling Stephanie Brown?"  
  
Okay, usually Barbara was game for being the wise mentor, and she understood, she really did, how pretty much all of Stephanie's self-worth was wrapped up in being a hero and fighting crime, but Dick was currently kissing his way down one of her surgery scars, clearly on a mission to give her lady business some  _very needed_  attention, so she really didn't have time for this conversation. She just had to give Stephanie some gentle, thoughtful, supportive, concise encouragement, and return to having sex with her boyfriend.  
  
"Steph, would you get it through your thick skull that YOU ARE BATGIRL? If you can quip and banter when you're injured and exhausted, you can damn well manage to quip and banter over breadsticks. Now, quit acting like all your best traits vanish when you take off your cowl, go enjoy your date, and  _let me get back to enjoying mine._ "  
  
There was a long pause.  
  
Dick's shoulders were shaking.  
  
"Am I... interrupting something?" Stephanie asked lasciviously. "Is the great O in pursuit of the  _big O_?" She cackled at her own joke.  
  
So did Dick.  
  
"Don't encourage her," Barbara hissed.  
  
"Is that...?" Stephanie asked.  
  
"Goodbye, Stephanie," Barbara said reprovingly and ended to the call. Dick was still laughing.  
  
"Oh shut up," she said, scowling.

 

~~~

  
Stephanie climbed the stairs up to Gage's apartment at exactly 7:05 with her heart in her mouth.  
  
They'd agreed to meet at his place after a 'who's on first'-esque conversation about Italian restaurants called  _Marco's_ , followed by her blanket refusal to let him pick her up at her place. (How about Nick and her mother's paths never, ever cross, okay?)  
  
She was trying to tell herself that this was just a date, that normal people went on dates, but herself couldn't help commenting about the fact that she could count the number of actual, official dates she'd been on with one hand. And that was  _including_  dates that were really patrols in formal wear.  
  
Steph knew she was weird in that the best parts of her sexual history were the strictly PG-13 times she'd made out with Tim. All the R-rated actual-sex parts consisted of guys grunting and panting over her while she told herself that she was having way more fun than she actually was.  
  
  
But this was different! She liked Nick! He seemed to like her! They were both nominally adults! He wasn't a low-life scumbag! This could end well!  
  
"This isn't going to end well," Steph groaned to herself and knocked on the door.  
  
"Coming!" Nick shouted from inside his apartment. He opened the door as he shrugged on a dress shirt over a white muscle shirt. "Sorry," he apologized, "I over-estimated how many..." he paused, no doubt taking in Steph's glazed eyes.  
  
"You wanna come in?" he asked, voice low.  
  
"Yeah," Steph said, and pounced. She jumped into his arms, legs twining about his waist, her arms around his neck. She kissed him greedily, nipping at his mouth.  
  
Nick slammed the door closed, pressed her back against it, one hand fumbling with the deadbolt.  
  
"This okay?" he asked. "You good?"  
  
Steph nodded raggedly, trying to shove his shirt off his shoulders.  
  
"Okay," Nick said and carried her to the bed room. He dropped her onto the bed. She bounced, squealed, laughed.  
  
His bedroom lights were off, but the street lights through the blinds had laid strips of light across his bed. She could still see a couple boxes shoved against one wall, his open closet half-empty and hangers dangling.  
  
"You have the prettiest laugh," Nick told her, ditching his dress shirt and yanking off the undershirt. Doing so made his hair stand on end, but Steph liked it. It settled her nerves, reminded her that his was a guy she'd gotten to know via late nights and danger, and late nights and danger were at the heart of all the best relationships in her life.  
  
"Really?" she asked.  
  
He nodded, looking serious for a moment. "Really." He unhooked the buttons of her jean skirt and she lifted her hips, helping him pull it off. She immediately set to work peeling her violet tights and panties off at once.  
  
Nick made a sound deep in his throat, like she'd just sucker-punched him. He dropped his head, kissed each knee, first one, then the other. He gently stroked the outside of her thighs. His fingers found some of the scars Black Mask had left on her, and he touched them gently. They were mostly thin lines and slight bumps at this point, but Nick touched them carefully. He bent his head further, kissed them.  
  
Steph's stomach jumped. She kept herself propped up on her elbows, watching every move he made.  
  
Nick settled himself between her legs. "Hey, you still with me?" he asked. He kissed the inside of her thigh, moved lower, kissed her again.  
  
"Yes," Steph said, and nodded. It wasn't that she wasn't clear about where Nick was headed with this, it was just that her personal experience with this particular act was... nonexistent. The last time she'd been having sex, she'd been fifteen; none of the guys she'd been with had offered, and she hadn't asked.  
  
Nick slid two fingers against her sex, used them to open her up, and  _licked_. Steph wiggled.  _Oh, this is embarrassing,_  she thought, and then the tip of Nick's tongue curled around her clit and her elbows decided they were done holding her weight. Her back hit the mattress and her hips jerked upward. Nick slung an arm across her hips but his mouth didn't stop working her.  
  
He didn't seem to be in a hurry. He'd toy with her clit for a minute or two or five, let his tongue drop lower for a bit, tracing her folds, before returning.  
  
Steph folded her arms across herself, grabbing her upper arms tightly. Doing so tugged at her sore shoulder. She tried to focus on that discomfort, tried to get herself under control, but Nick's mouth was on her and jumpy sparks of pleasure were under every inch of her skin. He slid two fingers inside her and when she responded with a choked-off moan he added a third, stroking and pressing and stroking and his mouth was relentless and–  
  
Steph came with shout.  
  
"Oh, wow," she said. Nick nuzzled just below her belly button, and then crawled up to kiss her neck, her mouth. She could taste herself on him, salty-sour. She slipped her tongue into Nick's mouth, turned on and flushed with lust and a teeny bit of embarrassment.  
  
"Oh my god, I'm sorry, do you have neighbors?" She broke their kiss. "Of course you have neighbors, you live an apartment, you have neighbors on four sides and neighbors across the hall, who hopefully are  _not_  close enough to hear me, oh my god, I swear I will be quieter next time–"  
  
Nick clucked her chin with his knuckles. "Don't you dare," he said, "I have it on good authority that you can be as loud as the hell you want when you're making love."  
  
Okay, Steph was not going to even touch the phrase "making love."  
  
"Oh yeah?" she said, and sniffed. "Whose authority is that?"  
  
Oracle was right, she could banter! And okay, they weren't bantering over breadsticks, but she was naked and bantering, which ANYONE would concede was way harder than bantering over Italian food!  
  
"Talking muppets....?" Nick said, sounding like he was reconsidering his position as the words came out of his mouth.  
  
"Accepted," Steph said, and wrapped her fingers around his erection. "So, how loud are you? I think I wanna find out."


End file.
